Captain's Prerogative
by Anotherjaneway
Summary: A disaster stuns Captain Stanley and an action taken leaves Gage unaccountably bitter. Craig Brice proves an unexpected balm.


This is a text version of the original still airing imaged, music soundtracked story.

Emergency Theater Live, Episode Thirty Five

35. Captain's Prerogative Season Five- Episode 35 Short summary-  
A disaster stuns Captain Stanley and an action taken leaves Gage unaccountably bitter. Craig Brice proves an unexpected balm.

****WARNING**** The long summary to come is very story spoiling and will take away plot surprises if you read it now before reading the longer story below it.

Decide now if you want to read this episode's detailed summary before doing so.

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Long Summary-  
Captain Stanley awakens at Rampart, seriously hurt, and struggles to reconstruct his memory. He suffers a flashback of hanging hose in the tower when lightning struck him, two years earlier. Then he worries about the day's current injury on a scene that he had misjudged badly,  
causing all of his men to become caught in an explosion and building collapse at the pier. Gage speaks with Joanne DeSoto at Rampart about hope in the waiting area. There they learn about Chet and Roy's incoming helicopter flight and rush outside to meet Brice and the team bringing them in. Johnny learns Roy and Chet are serious but stable and that the others of his station are still missing under the debris field. Dr. Brackett shares possibilities of Roy's problems with Joanne and soon, both Roy and Chet are treated by trauma teams aggressively. Gage rushes back to the scene against orders. Cap, in another room regrets the command decision he made at the accident site. Joanne comforts Johnny in the chapel. Morton delivers good news about Chet, Roy and Cap's conditions. Stoker and Lopez awaken to find themselves injured and buried under a fallen building. They begin a crawling, escaping attempt to free themselves. Dixie and Brackett visit Hank post surgical with a well known fire chaplain. Cap has a precognition about the chaplain's future and is disturbed. He learns Marco and Stoker are alive and is comforted following a prayer. Gage tricks a rookie medic into taking his patient and sneaks over to where Brice is digging out his stationmates.  
Johnny goes into a hole and treats three others along with his two coworkers.  
Stoker does his best to calm a man trapped with him. Slowly, they learn the true extent of the disaster. Hank Stanley returns off duty to a station vacant during his usual A-shift, intentionally scheduled as abandoned while he and his men heal, and goes to sit in his darkened office while worrying about his up and coming disciplinarian Skelly hearing. He discovers his men, similarly drawn back to the stationhouse, serving out coffee in the kitchen. They forgive him the order that brought them harm and set up Brice as his arbitrator for his hearing.  
Craig finds a legal loophole that gives the gang a dismissal advantage. They actively ply to invoke it. Stoker begins his testimony the next day, with confidence.

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The Story Unfolds...

Season Five, Episode Thirty Five.  
Captain's Prerogative Debut Launch: July 1st, 2006. *  
From: "rwein5" Date: Mon Jul 3, 2006 7:08 am Subject: Eye Opener..

He couldn't see the face behind the light.

All he felt was the piercing pain down his left side and the chorus of bees that seemed to have settled in his head. The light shifted and he groaned, knowing that the cracked vocal strains came directly from him.

Cap tried to shut his eyes against the forced brightness, but didn't have the strength. Finally, the light shut off and a voice filtered through the buzzing.

"Okay, Hank, good job. Just hang in there." the deep voice commanded.

He wasn't sure if he understood the command, but it didn't matter.  
There was only so much he was capable of doing right now. Images began dancing in his mind as he tried to shut out the annoying real world. Between the pain, the prodding, and the obvious demands for him to comply, he let himself drift to the earlier part of his day.

That part wasn't filled with pain and anguish. That memory was pleasant and filled with satisfaction.

Then the whirlwind of images picked up speed and he tried to make sense of them. His addled brain set into overdrive and he felt the spiraling descent into the worst part of his day; the part that landed him here on an examining table with nothing but pain.. Yet the physical pain seemed to competing for his mental anguish.

He desperately wanted to open his eyes and see the faces of his men.  
However, that reality was no longer around. All he knew was the despair of loss and the anguish of defeat; all because of his decisions and his leadership.

He succumbed to the depths of his own reality where the crew was safe and all was as it should be.

A veil of darkness slipped around him carrying him away to a world of sleep. He groaned again.

Remembering . . .

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Photos: None.

*  
From: "sniffles_76102" sniffles_  
Date: Mon Jul 3, 2006 10:15 pm Subject: Reverse..

It had been a dark cloudy day.

All the men had gotten to the station on time.

Even Gage.

They all had been on time for three shifts in a row. Cap remembered that he made a bet with all of his men, stating.  
"I bet you twits couldn't get here on time, all of you, for three shifts..."

Smiling, Hank looked around as Johnny came skidding into the kitchen mumbling, "Sorry Cap, about being late."

Chet looked up and said, "Cap what would happen if we got here on time, all of us,"..he mused, while glancing at Johnny, " for three shifts?"

Hank knowing how at least one of them would always be late, smiled and said , "I'll hang the hose for you twits without any of you helping me."

Well that time had come.

::How could I have known that "C" shift had a lot of calls during the night and didn't have time to hang hose?:: Cap thought miserably while he was getting the hose hung off the tower and thinking about his men. ::How DID all of my men get Johnny in here on time?::

He was still mumbling to himself, when he looked down... He immediately made another face.

All of his men were watching him from below the tower.

"Johnny, how come you can get here on time when I make a bet, but all the other times you're late?" scowled Hank from where he was.

"Well, Cap. I couldn't let down the men... How was I to know that "C"  
Shift left you these nice, soggy presents?" Johnny smiled up at Hank.

"Yeah, Cap. We HAVE wondered how the experts do it." said Chet with laughter in his voice as he gestured at the long spaghetti trails of hose slowly moved upwards, one by one.

Stoker really never thought this kind of outcome would happen either.  
Mike just laughed and didn't say a word.

Marco was smiling, when he looked around at the clouds. "Hey Cap, you might want to hurry a little. It looks like there is a storm coming in." he shouted up.

"Do you twits have nothing else to do, except watch me?!" Cap said a little testily. He hadn't hung hose in a long time and he was remembering quite easily why he didn't miss it.

The men turned to go back into the station.

They had just made it inside, when it happened.

Lightning struck the tower and outside, the captain started yelling and screaming. They saw that he was being electrocuted as the tower came down through the window.

The firemen felt like the world had come to an end. They were still reeling at how the loud the crack of lightning and the boom of thunder had rocked them.

They raced back outside and began circling the crumpled hose tower where their captain lay entangled.

Mike turned around and immediately called out on the alcove radio to headquarters. But he got no reply back. ::The lightning must have zapped the radio transceiver.:: he thought.

Then he went to the engine, grabbed his HT, and tried once again to radio out to L.A. for help.

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From: "rwein5"  
Date: Sat Jul 15, 2006 2:41 pm Subject: Flashback

Being the best paramedic team in the county had had its drawbacks.

One of the biggest drawbacks had to have been handling an emergency situation in their own backyard.

Once the lightning had struck, both Roy and Johnny slipped quickly into their paramedic mode and had administered CPR. Chet and Marco frantically pulled away the heavy canvas hoses and cleared the area for the team.

Mike was already at their side with the biophone and oxygen. Despite the intimidating wind and threat of a downpour, the crew of Station 51 had stayed professional and persistent. A heartbeat soon began again, and by the time the ambulance arrived, Hank was reading as stable and was ready for transport.

A day of rest and monitoring... and Cap's visit at Rampart was promised to remain short.

He had survived that one.

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The scene played out in broken details as Hank continued to struggle to consciousness once again.

Why he was remembering an incident from several years ago with such clarity, eluded him and further agitated his pain-riddled senses. He had survived then. :: But what about today? Will I survive the consequences of my last decision?:: he thought.

"Hank?"

The tunnel of voices spun away again. He tried hard to listen, but only shook his aching head in frustration." . . .aghh . . my . .men?" he whispered.

"Hank? Can you stay with me? Hank . . ?" prompted the question again.

Stanley felt a softness against his forehead as the gentle voice made its way to his confused mind.

"Hank? You need to let me know where it hurts? Can you hear me?"  
it asked.

Cap decided that he couldn't open his eyes nor find the strength to reply back.

Dixie looked up at Joe Early as he continued to assess his newest patient.

Early sighed, putting away his stethoscope.  
"I don't know, Dix. We need to see those X-rays before I can do much else." he told her, indicating the backboard that Cap had been strapped to.

"I know. I just wish he was more coherent." she said.

Hank restlessly moved his arms and legs, attempting to find control in the physical world and not succeeding. " . . Roy?"

Dixie tried to soothe the injured fireman.  
"Shh, Hank. Everything is okay. You're at Rampart and we're working hard to make you more comfortable."

Hank heard some of the words, but felt no relief. The depth of his anguish and pain radiated from his groans and the vision of his latest dream still taunted him. "..jus' lightning . . But thank G*d they all ...stayed okay while getting to me.. " he swallowed dryly.

Dixie frowned at Cap's mismatched facts as Hank mumbled through his current pain. "What is he talking about?" she wondered.

Then Early pointed to a detail on his chart. "Two year ago, Dix. That was the last time he was hurt like this."

Dixie hung her head and once again tracked the fast flow of I.V. fluid out of the drip chamber that was delivering badly needed electrolytes.

She knew the next few days would be tough as the fireman discovered the outcome of this latest rescue. Details were still scarce as the rescue effort continued. Despite her need to attend to Hank's injuries, McCall also wished she could be at the base station to hear the latest from the command center.

" . . jus' search for. . my . .men.." Hank tried to roll to his side as another wave of pain rolled through his back. "..My decision . . "  
he grunted when the immobilization measures he was under, stopped him.

Dixie took another blood pressure reading and noted the tears slipping from Hank's clenched eyelids.

"Hang on, Hank . . You have to hang on." she whispered "Absolutely everything possible is being done to try and find them."

The door to the treatment room opened and Carol peeked in.

Joe and Dixie looked up briefly to acknowledge her presence and both of them flinched at the look on her face.

"They've found Roy and Chet. Life Flight is bringing them in now."  
said Evans.

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*  
From: "Champagne Scott" Date: Mon Jul 17, 2006 7:46 pm Subject: The Staining..

Out in reception, Gage was impatiently waiting for a police car to take him back to the site of the collapse.

A voice startled him from a nearby chair, breaking into his whirlwind nightmare.

"Please tell me the truth, Johnny. How bad is it out there?"

Gage turned, struck numb with recognition when he saw Joanne DeSoto, rising to her feet with a kleenix clutched tight and mangled in her hands.

The exhausted fireman paramedic cast away his glance with a curious, pained reluctance as he took her palms in his own.

Firmly, Roy's frantic wife reached out for his fire jacketed arm. "Please. I know you're under orders. But... I want.." she corrected herself. "I have to know what to say to the kids..They need hope." she moaned, fighting crippling fear.

Gage renewed the tight grip he held, holding Joanne's sweaty,  
chilled palms in both of his own while he fought the stinging tears in his eyes. He looked up, lost for words. ::How can you relate a horrific disaster like this? :: he thought. "I can't. Not yet. I.. I-it's not over yet." he whispered.

"Oh, Johnny. He can't even fight back. There's no fire."  
Joanne sobbed in the tiniest of voices.

The shreds of Gage's remaining courage, built back up during the hour it took for him and working crews to free Captain Stanley from the building, fled like burst fruit and he found himself clinging to the wife of his friend like a needy child. "It's so hard. I.. It's hard." he choked. "But he's not..." Johnny broke off. "They're not...gone. Not yet. I know I'd feel it if they were." he sighed.

Joanne separated softly and wiped the traces of weeping from Gage's plaster dusted face. "I trust you, Johnny. And the others, just as deeply." she half smiled through barely veiled underlying panic.

A stab of anger coursed through Johnny when he remembered the last order Captain Stanley had given him, that he had given ALL of them. . ::He was dead wrong. Why didn't he see that?!:: he raged inwardly. On the outside, he held his face in professionalism.

Gage nodded, firming up his mouth. "It's only a matter of time before they're found. Every available county fire station's been mobilized. And most of the city's." he said of Los Angeles.  
"They're moving fast, Joanne. And they're sifting very carefully with their best dogs. I saw them beginning already when I had to leave..." he broke off.. " ..leave with Cap. That's the hard part about being a paramedic. You're tied to your current patient, whereever he goes. You have no choice about it even if you want so badly to go back to help in a search.." he choked.

Mrs. DeSoto immediately took him into another desperate embrace.

"Shh," Joanne soothed. "It's ok. One thing at a time. We mustn't fall apart. Not now. Roy needs us to be strong. Chet, Marco, and Mike are counting on that, too. Oh, Johnny.. Close your eyes if you have to from moment to moment, but just trust yourself to do your job.... ...I do.." she pleaded.

Gage swallowed hard and blinked. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I..."

"Fireman Gage.." came a nurse's voice from the desk.

"Yeah?" Johnny said, moving quickly to her side as he returned his heavily scratched and stained helmet to his head.

"They're bringing in your partner and another named Kelly from your engine crew." she said, pointing to the scanner and the backs of two doctors, leaning over the base station inside the glass receiving room. "Dr. Brackett left standing orders. He thought you two should know." she told him. "They're both alive but their reported conditions are rated as serious."

"How are they coming in? By rig or by chopper?"

"By air. On the same 're on approach right now with Station 8's paramedics." she said.

"Thank you.." Gage said, grabbing Joanne's hand eagerly. Mrs. DeSoto needed no encouragement to follow him out the ambulance entrance doors to the helicopter landing pad. "Now Joanne. Stand where I tell you to stand and don't even think about moving closer once we get there." he told her firmly. "The rotors have a nasty reach."

"I understand.." she sobbed, longing to see her husband.

Blinking in the fierce daylight, Johnny took Joanne to the edge of the parking lot and put her slightly behind him to shield her from all the flying landing debris. He could just make out Craig Brice's bent form working a suction tube on someone through the cabin window.

He got on his HT to their call channel. "HT 8. This is HT 51. I'm outside to help you transfer to your rendevous point."

Joanne saw Craig's head snap up in recognition at Johnny's broadcast and the real private reason that he was actually there. Brice offered the two figures below an encouraging visual thumbs up through the glass panes as the large red and white helicopter touched down cautiously into place.

Roy's wife practically melted against a bordering palm tree. "Oh,  
thank G*d." she sighed over the roar of the spinning props.

Gage gave her hand one final squeeze and then he ran out in front of the pilot to await his flashing hand signal that it was safe enough to approach the side door.

He got it half a minute later.

Then the chopper door cracked open to reveal...

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Photo: Johnny sad in close up.

Photo: Joanne DeSoto clutching a kleenix.

Photo: Station Ten leaving base at night.

Photo: Station Ten firefighters rushing with equipment.

Photo: A building collapse site seen from the air.

Photo: Brackett boarding a chopper.

Photo: Brice in close up, looking down.

Photo: Victims of triage, lining a road, bloodied and bandaged.

************************************************** From: Jeff Seltun Date: Wed Jul 19, 2006 11:28 am Subject: Transfer of Care..

...the unmistakable shape of Roy's feet and body, lying under a yellow shock sheet in a stokes. Johnny saw that he was unconscious and firmly head and neck immobilized, but he was entirely without an ET. "What's his Glasgow?" he asked Brice as he grabbed an edge of the basket stretcher along with several hospital orderlies to help pull DeSoto out of the chopper.

"Nine. We found ligature around his neck from electrical wires. He's started not being able to handle secretions just a minute ago, but we've seen no obvious deformity of the underlying structures in his neck. Resp rate's twenty six. Here, take this.." shouted Craig, passing off a suction tube to Johnny that he had placed openly on Roy's exposed EKG cabled chest. "His lungs are still sounding clear. If you need it, the ambu's right there." said Craig, pointing to the clear green bag valve mask assembled and waiting off a regulator cracked oxygen tank lying in between Roy's knees.

"Ok."  
Gage saw that Roy had dark facial congestion with faint centralized cyanosis above well demarcated petechial hemorrhages from his neck on upwards, above the shallow cut the constricting wires had made. Both of his unseeing half cracked eyes were shot red with high pressured in blood and his tongue had swelled out around one side of the oral airway. "Just the strangulation?"

"Yeah.." said Craig. "Quit breathing on us for a few seconds while we were digging him out but his sats got up again quickly after a few shots off the ventilator. No rib fractures at all. We guess he was protected by the main support beam we found lying over him."

Johnny sucked out another surge of bloody saliva from Roy's mouth as they carried his dusty stokes over to a safety braked, bare mattressed, and wheeled gurney. "His EKG's holding. Sinus tach. Bump down the I.V. His intervals are shortening."

"Thanks. I got it." said Craig, dialing down the Ringer's crammed under Roy's shoulder. "Babinski's is normal on both, but we collared him anyway."

"Craig. Joanne's here. We gotta plan out what to tell her."  
Johnny gasped while they pushed Roy closer to the edge of the parking lot.

"John, we'll think of something." Brice said with a half smile. "How about,.. 'Don't worry. He's nowhere near dying?'"

"That'll work." grinned Gage.

"Sure it will." retorted Craig. "Because it's true."

They were still inside the dangerous hundred foot flight zone when Roy's stomach began rippling forcefully.  
That halted them all.

"Hold it. Hold it!" Gage ordered, anticipating a possible need for a rapid log roll. "Is he choking? Or vomiting?"

Craig bent over Roy with a penlight, who had been rapidly tipped onto his side so Brice could look into his mouth and clear it with the suction tube. "It's just nausea. The general swelling inside's still about the same."

Gage spoke up, having snatched the stethoscope from around Craig's collar. "Breathing's ok. And still no thrill or bruit." he said, feeling and listening lightly over Roy's carotid arteries, one at a time. "Got it all?"  
he said, holding Roy's oxygen mask nearer, on continual blow by.

"Yeah.." said Craig, removing the last of the gastric debris leaking from Roy's mouth. A strong sound of empty air sucking inwards into the tube announced the task's completion. Brice sighed in relief. "Ok, guys, let's go.." he told the attendants as Johnny repositioned the O2 flow back over his partner's nose and mouth firmly.

"Easy. Easy.." Johnny said as they set DeSoto onto his back once again and elevated his gurney's head a little higher so the stokes would angle up along with it. Only then did Gage give a glance back towards Chet who was beginning to be eased out of the hot running chopper, attended by Brice's partner, Bellingham. "How's Kelly doing?"

"Non specific head injury. Reacts to pain but he's got an unexplained unsteady low BP that isn't reacting to a fluid challenge."

"That's why he was flown? And the reason for the mast suit?"  
Johnny asked, pointing back at the attendants now carrying Kelly's stokes to a second gurney waiting a safe distance away from the helicopter.

"Yeah." Brice told him.

"What else did you find on him?"

"Not much else. All quadrants were soft. We found no ecchymosis anywhere past his forehead and his right shoulder. Does a broken pinky count as serious trauma?" he joked.

"Maybe his hypotension's due to inhaled fumes or something." Johnny replied, grinning.

"It might be that. He's got some rales bilaterally that the oxygen isn't clearing." Brice shared.

Gage paled uncontrollably when he did the next natural thing.  
He asked about his coworkers.

Brice met his eyes fully. "There's still no word. But the dogs are reacting positively. Someone's still alive under the debris and they're getting excited right over the spot where your men were ordered in."  
Johnny fought his emotions for a long moment. Then he shook himself.  
"All right, I'm breaking away to go handle Joanne. Thanks for their updates." Johnny said, reluctantly releasing the brachial grip he had on Roy's weak arm pulse.

"No problem." smiled Brice as he loosened his helmet's chin strap. Then his expression changed. "I'm sorry all of this had to happen, Johnny."

Gage sighed at the repeat of Brice's rare usage of his first name. "So am I, Craig. So am I... Our captain waded through the worst possible situation call imaginable. And unfortunately, he's gonna have to live with what he did along with the all the rest of us."

"It's a real tough break. Is the chief here yet?"

"No, but he's gonna be and I don't think I wanna be there when it comes time for Cap to start facing all the music." Johnny said, eyeing up Roy's EKG monitor one more time. "That flow rate's good, Craig. Lock it off. His tach's slowing." he said as he ducked down to leave the hospital workers and station eight's paramedics to finish conveying Chet and Roy into Rampart.

Seconds later, it would have taken a hydraulic spreader with jaws on full to break Joanne away from her husband's side. Her tears gone, inner strength took over solidly in their place. "Roy, I'm here with you and Chet. Johnny's here, too. So's Hank. Don't worry about anything you don't have to worry about. Let the doctors do the hard part for you, love. Can you feel me holding your hand?"  
she said loudly as they entered through the ambulance doors.

Dr. Brackett met both firemen and Kel triaged them right there in the entryway. "Tardieu spots?" he noted as he peeled up Roy's eyelids with both hands.

Craig nodded. "And the beginnings of dysphagia although I can't tell if it's cranial nerve IX involvement or just due to posterior or lateral pharyngeal wall bruising. We've had to suction out his airway twice during the last three minutes."

Kel nodded, and turned to a very closely listening Dixie McCall.  
"Dix, order the standard trauma blood studies: CBC, electrolytes, and all warranted blood chemistry levels, blood type and cross-  
matching. For his imaging studies, I want plain-film radiography in a 3-view series of the cervical spine to look for emphysema, fractures, displacement of the trachea, and the possible presence of a foreign body.

"Craig,when we get into the presurgical room, I want you to establish a second intravenous access in that arm opposite the side of this injury." he said pointing to the soft sign nonexpanding hematoma that Craig had told him about over the radio at the scene.".. I want that option working in case disruption of Roy's ipsilateral venous circulation has occurred." Brackett said. "Has his breathing been noisy or impaired at all following that apneic period he suffered during extrication?"

"No, doctor." said Brice. "He didn't complain of tenderness over his larynx or trachea even one bit before he blacked out. I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary there either."

Brackett palpated Roy's throat cautiously down to the shoulders. "I agree with your findings. But let's err to the side of caution. Dixie, prepare Roy for an emergent intubation. He's starting to show an increasing inability to suitably handle his secretions here. While he's being intubated, tell the respiratory specialist I want him to look for obvious distortions of any neck landmarks, tell him particularly to watch out for tracheal deviation or the existence of large amounts of subcutaneous air. I'll join up with him in a minute."

Joanne stepped forward, looking startled. "Wait a minute. Johnny, Kel..I thought you both said my husband was doing all right.."

"He's doing fine all things considering, Mrs. DeSoto." said Kel, taking her aside while he waved the orderlies to move Roy on into a nearby treatment room. "But Roy may develop hard signs of an arterial injury, include a resumption of expansion in his neck bruising with severe active or pulsatile bleeding. He may develop shock unresponsive to fluids, or start showing signs of a cerebral infarct, with or without the presence of a bruit or thrill and diminished distal limb pulses.

"Virtually all patients with newly developing hard signs of an arterial injury require operative repair. And for that possibility, Roy will have to be fully airway protected and anesthetized or things might quickly become problematic in very short order."

"But what if he gets better on his own, Doctor Brackett? Sticking a tube down his throat sounds a little bit extreme to me." she said worriedly.

Kel bent over Chet, beginning Kelly's quick survey after he glanced over Bellingham's notes on him. "Mrs. DeSoto, soft signs, such as stable bruising and absent paresthesias, do not improve the predictive value of an arterial injury any more than guessing its wound proximity to a major vessel just by viewing what the area looks like. The fact that we still have a clear presence of both carotid pulses doesn't exactly exclude a vascular injury, nor would a sudden absence of a strong pulse on either side be indicative of vascular damage. We won't necessarily have to perform surgery on Roy today once he's been secured. But he needs endoscopy regardless to reassure everybody that his trachea truly hasn't been structurally compromised. Before inserting any scope, we will confirm that his airway is patent, intact, and thoroughly protected before we begin anything. Also, as a side hedge to that ace, his films will reveal beforehand, all possible cervical spine disruptions. Afterwards, once he begins to reawaken, we can begin checking for neurological deficits. ."

"Roy might be paralyzed?!" Joanne quailed.

"It's always possible. We won't know whether or not he is until he's conscious." Brackett told her frankly.

Joanne sucked in her breath, not willing to face such a disturbing idea.

Brackett knew that as a fireman's wife, Joanne would always appreciate brutal medical honesty before anything else concerning her husband's condition. So he went on.  
"Not only was Roy's spinal cord vulnerable how he was injured, but so were other neural pathways like the phrenic, recurrent laryngeal, and lower lying cranial nerves, as well as the brachial plexus bundle. Additionally, detection of a neurological deficit may signify damage to the carotid or vertebral arteries with subsequent CNS ischemia.

"But then again, anything adverse that happens in the future could occur only temporarily. When pressure is exerted on the the carotid vessels of the neck, a decreased level of consciousness occurs, but only sometimes, will contralateral hemiparesis result because of it, mimicking stroke-like symptoms." Brackett said.

"What should I be on the look out for later on, doctor?"  
Joanne asked, studying Chet's half conscious, wincing face while Kel palpated his injured shoulder around the splint.

"Any drooping of the corner of the mouth, vocal hoarseness.  
An inability to shrug a shoulder while rotating his chin simultaneously to the opposite shoulder, like someone would do while putting on a T-shirt over one's head. Any sideways deviation of the tongue after he sticks it out at you. Tell us immediately if that happens.  
Especially if he thinks it's jutting straight out perfectly..."  
Kel suggested. "These are all abnormal cranial nerve signs."

"I'll watch for them." she said, moving off to the same chair in the waiting room that she had been in when she first ran into Johnny Gage ten minutes earlier.

Dr. Brackett looked to Station Eight's medic as he kept a hand on Kelly's stomach to monitor his slightly rapid respirations.  
"I've found suggestions of Zone I wounds right here. He might have suffered damage to his thoracic cavity.." he said, showing Bellingham the faintest marks now just beginning to rise over Chet's collarbones. He mandated an order for a chest x-ray. ::I'll circumspectly review the film for a hemopneumothorax or a widening mediastinum with emphysema:  
he mentally planned out. "The crackling breath sounds you're hearing could be due, not to gas inhalation, but to possible developing bilateral pleural hematomas. Nurse. Get another pressure. Stat. " he told the one assigned to assist him with Chet. Then he asked his paramedic another question. "How was he when you first uncovered him?"

Bob frowned thoughtfully. "Unresponsive to verbal but he was self ventilating adequately. Unlike Roy, he never turned a bad color at any time."

"A point in his favor. Looks like Chet's proved once again that he's got a head hard enough to survive just about anything. "

"Doctor,.. blood pressure is eighty over forty." said the nurse.

"Ok, let's get him into Three." Brackett grimaced tightly.

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*  
From: "rwein5" Date: Thu Jul 20, 2006 9:34 am Subject: Remembering the Call

The clouds had moved in quickly and with little fanfare. Gusts of wind and lighting took turns dancing across the Los Angeles' south bay area, leaving little evidence of their presence. However, the flash of a lightning strike danced too close to the tanker unloading gasoline at one of the berths. As the first spark ignited,  
a series of explosions rocked the harbor and the calls began.

A muscle spasm shook his whole body as the lightning flashed again deep in his dream. A small moan escaped his dry lips and suddenly his eyes opened to reveal the fear and dread that surrounded his entire consciousness. The reality of the bright and stark hospital treatment room reminded him of his ongoing despair over their assignment at the harbor.

"Hey, Hank, back with us?" Dixie moved closer to the injured man and began taking his pulse by gently holding his wrist.

"Dix?"

"You're okay, Hank. You're at Rampart and we're getting ready to send you to the OR. Looks like you've some internal bleeding and we need to get it repaired." she explained.

"News. . . ? Anything yet?" he struggled to make himself clear but the words and energy were too hard to find.

"Now you need to concentrate on just you. You know that everyone's working hard to find them." She didn't want to say much more knowing how much he was already struggling.

"I shouldn't . . shouldn't of let them go back in . . . Too many tanks .. I should've waited . . " Hank tried to get his words out and fumbled over the attempts. Tears of frustration began to build up again and he clenched his fists. "My decision . . " he whispered.

Dixie adjusted his IV tubing and turned as Joe re-entered the treatment room with X-rays.

"Joe, he's coming around again."

Joe moved over to Hank's side and gently gripped the man's shoulder. "We're going to take you up in a minute and get this bleeding stopped. You're going to feel better soon. Also, the ribs look like clean breaks." he explained to Hank.

Hank looked back at Joe and merely nodded. "Not okay . . . "

Joe patted Hank one last time and began preparations for moving him upstairs. The injured captain surrendered to the latest dose of sedatives, his mind ebbing away from the dark reality of gas explosions, lost men during the search and rescue, wrong decisions,  
and lightning.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Photos: None.

*  
From : patti keiper Sent : Friday, July 21, 2006 4:47 PM Subject : Twisted

It was thirty minutes later, and Johnny was still waiting for the axe to fall from Headquarters in the form of a grizzled man in Battalion helmet white.

He knew that it would only be a matter of time before the radio transmissions recorded on scene at the site of the blast would be reviewed and enacted upon, and dealt with in a harsh critique that was directly face to face with the known infractor. ::Oh, Cap. I'm really trying hard not to think about that.:: he worried deep in his tired thoughts. :: I know all those kids were screaming. I heard em, too. And probably, for once, your instincts as a father overrode the ones you usually always carefully listen to as a fire captain.::

The federal building's front facade had been completely shorn away by the pier's landbound tanker explosion. Nine stories now yawned the gaping maw of a crater, filled with jumbles of concrete debris, infrastructure piping,...and bodies.

It had been very clear from the onset that civilian fatalities were involved. ::The concrete... I can still see the blood between cracks:  
Johnny's memory moaned. He shivered again, draining yet another cup of pot forgotten, scalded Folders. He shot to his feet out of the chair where they all were inside the chapel, and a few feet's distance away from a softly praying Joanne.

"Still thinking about them?" she asked him quietly after a long,  
self conscious interval, heavy with powerful emotions.

Gage didn't meet her eyes, and instead they found the flickering flames of candles, dimly lit on the altar before them. "How can I not think about them? All that blood we saw on the fallen wall means that somebody just has to be on the other side. But d*mn it.." he sobbed. "We're dealing with eight to ten inches of concrete for each slab. And I can't help but think to myself,.. how are we ever gonna get through it?"

Joanne's eyes filled with sympathy instantly and she took Gage's dirty hands into her own.

Gage snatched them away and rubbed his nose in a loud, stressed snuffle of pain. "See? You can't get through it fast. You have to remove it. And yeah,  
they're all doing it, piece by piece. But d*mn it all to h*ll, Joanne, it's not going fast enough for me." he said through a very tight throat.

Johnny Gage still vividly remembered how frustrating it was for him to crawl through the rubble, trying to get to the shoe on Cap's twitching right foot, the only limb that had shown signs of any life inside the violently force collapsed day care center. ::I can still see the way he was... It's how the others might be,.. if they're still alive.:: he agonized mercilessly in his head.

Johnny curled into a stiff, seated ball on the hospital pew, not accepting any tactile comfort from Joanne, who was seated beside him.

Then a form in surgical blue broke them both out of everything in an instant.

Mrs. DeSoto and Gage shot to their feet and joined the newly arrived doctor.

"Chet's off the nasal P.E.E.P., and out of danger." said Dr. Morton, his voice mild and highly conscious of soothing subtlety. "His pulmonary insult's rapidly resolving. And yes, Roy's just as stable as he is. It's looking more and more under the knife, scope and films, that DeSoto's just moderately carotid contused, if still a little raw internally. Rotund bradycardia has made an appearance. But it's been very reactive to only minimal doses of atropine. Not jarring him around much and his earlier cautious I.V. volume delivery probably accounts for his lack of serious complications now."

"That was Brice again and his usual brilliant outcome of care. " Johnny said sarcastically. "Can't say I was there to help contribute much of anything for him. All I did was vacuum my neck stretched partner out a little and eyeball an EKG strip or two."

Morton chose to overlook Johnny's remark.

"Doctor...And Hank? How's he doing?" Joanne asked timidly, very uncomfortable with Johnny's harsh, self defeating, spiralling bent.

Mike Morton sighed, pulling off his surgical cap.  
"Kel and Joe found a small bowel tear on him in a lower quadrant. But it's clearly without fecal contamination. The fact that he was immobilized so fast in the field's probably what's gonna spare him the onset of any form of invasive peritonitis. The most he'll probably have is a bad case of cramping gas later after his digestive tract decides to kick back on."

A page overhead, calling Morton to Emergency, sounded.

"Excuse me. That's probably another victim coming in. I've got to go. Hey, you two. Things are ok. Roy and Hank'll be hitting recovery before you know it, all right?" Mike smiled.

Joanne and Johnny both nodded, still absorbing the news.

Then the sweat stained, disaster cowed resident was gone.

And that was the signal for Johnny's restlessness to instantly return.

Gage crushed his empty coffee cup and tossed it into a nearby trash receptacle noisily, startling a few family members huddled in prayer behind them as the sound shattered the peace of the non-denominational chapel. They began to whisper in understanding and they smiled encouragingly at the agitated paramedic, knowing without a doubt that he was also someone who was...waiting.

For some reason, their unspoken, mute compassion irritated him on a deep level. "I'm leaving the hospital. . Right now." Gage hissed, moving for the sanctuary's door.

Joanne swiftly intercepted him.  
"You can't do that. Cap's in surgery.. So's Roy.  
Now just what kind of friend are you if you won't be there, at their sides, when they both finally wake up and look to you to help them while they ask for clarity to release them from their own personal kinds of 'What happened?' h*ll?"

"Why not? I'll tell you why not.. Because it doesn't look like there's any fire department official here who's got the guts enough to stop me."

Desperate and hurting beyond comfortable tolerance, Johnny finally flagged down a taxi cab to take him back to his rescue squad's location at the edge of the green zone.

-  
There was dust, thick and choking, in the blackness.

Distant drips of falling water echoed through myriads of deeply buried tiny niches in the rubble underneath the government building's foundations.

Marco Lopez came to, moaning as he spat bitter plaster from his mouth and throat. In the next instant, he hit the off button on his pass device's distress beacon, silencing it. Pain shot through his arms and head with the movement and consciousness wavered.

Fright took over. Eye blind, Lopez felt around him for the size of the space in which he was trapped. ::More air space. I'm gonna need that.:: Then he remembered that he was not alone. He began shouting for his engine crew and two squadmates.

His hand smacked into a helmet lying near his concrete pinned left side.  
It wasn't his own. That one was still fastened securely to his head.  
He felt the inside of its band for its engraved indent tag. "S...T...O.  
K..." he whispered.. "Stoker?!" he shouted, feeling around desperately for another warm body lying near his. "Are you here? Answer me!"

He found a pool of still warm blood next to his ear. In horror, Marco wiped off most of the stickness coating his fingers onto his turnout jacket. ::Why didn't I smell that?:: asked his mind. It answered bluntly. ::Because you've got a concussion.. or worse. You were unconscious a minute ago..:: Lopez closed his eyes and concentrated on his body and what it was feeling. Pain and senses slowly began returning as panicked breathing and the realization of where he truly was hit home.

A rising stench of bowel matter and urine stung his nose then and he was aware of the soiled mess's cold dampness as it made his pants cling around his legs. ::I must have been out a while. Long enough to sh*t on mysel-...::

A snoring gasp choked above him, startled Marco out of his thoughts. "Stoker?!" And instantly, he knew that Mike was very near. Again, straining,  
Lopez reached and blindly probed the cramped space surrounding him.

He found a head of hair, and when his hands disturbed the dirty mat,  
he smelled the familiar scents of Old Spice and Johnson to Johnson's shampoo.  
"It's you..Come on, pal." Marco gasped, feeling around for the direction Mike's face lay in the crush of dust and glass. He found Stoker's nose and mouth facing the floor. Digging, Marco freed up a hole around them and he listened for another effort for continued breathing. "Hey,..take another breath in. Move a little!"  
he begged.

Getting angry in his fear, Marco pinched Mike's face, in between two fingers. Hard.

A huge answering gasping inhalation rewarded him as Marco pulled himself out from under a fallen pipe to cradle Mike in his arms. There was barely room to lift his head and he cut himself on something sharp when he held up Mike's head so he could easily reach air. A thudding, rapid neck pulse greeted Lopez's eager fingers.

"OhhHHHh.. *gasp*...cough. cough cough...." Mike choked,  
spitting out drool and dirt. Then came a rasping whisper of a question. "Marco? Is that you?"

"Yeah. It's me, pal. Hold still until you're more awake."

Mike didn't reply, falling into the same self survey of his body that Lopez had done on himself a minute ago. Stoker just gasped and lay still where he was,  
trying to read his throbbing injuries by concentrating on them, one by one.

"Are you better now?"  
Lopez waited for Mike's answer as both men breathed in and out until their initial oxygen debt was completely gone.

"I'm...ok.." Then he paused. "Who's bleeding?" he asked as his hand splashed into the same gory puddle Marco had discovered by his face.

"That's not mine or yours." he said tightly. Then he changed the subject.  
"Were you near anybody when--"

"Yeah.. I was running towards a bunch of kids. Five, I think, when the explosion came. Was that the tanker?"

"One of them..." Lopez grunted as he fought to move a hand down to his pocket for his HT. He doubted that it was in working condition. For it hadn't issued a single sound out of his pocket. "Where's your radio? Mine's.  
fried."

"I had it out in my hand...*ugh* but it's gone." Stoker said. "Must've lost my grip on it when these floors came down on top of us." he gasped.

"What hurts?" Marco asked him, still groggy with shock. "Me? It's my head mostly.. And...I've got a piece of glass sticking out of my lower leg."

"Is it bad?" Stoker coughed.

"Not yet. Must be acting as a tourniquet inside. I'm not even bleeding that much from there. How about you?"

"Same with my head. Pain.. I've got one h*ll of a lump." Stoker sighed,  
as he ran his hands up and down wherever he could reach on his body. "My left foot's numb but I'm not trapped. You?"

"I'm free." Marco gasped. "Let's see if we can start finding our way outta here."

"Wait a minute.. Let me wrap up that shard in your leg first to immobilize it.  
Don't want you to sever an artery or worse." Stoker said, setting a hand on Marco's neck to check the pulse rate there.

"ok..ok..ok....." Lopez sighed, resting his head on the ground as he submitted to Mike's light status exam."Oh, man. Cap's probably beside himself with worry about our sorry *sses, eh?"

"That probably isn't even the half of it." Stoker chuckled, but then Marco could almost see the seriousness fall over his coworker's face. "Was it a bad call on his part? We did hear kids nearby."

"Mute point. Let's just concentrate on getting rescued. I, for one, wanna see a little daylight here, real soon." Marco said, flipping painfully over onto his right side as he gingerly felt the slant of the broken slab tenting over them. Mike soon bound his leg and the glass shard with strips from his overcoat that he had knife cut free, using Marco's helmet as cupping protection over it.

"I'm with you there. Let's go.. I think the harbor's that way.." and Stoker began crawling into the mouth of what he knew was an impossible maze of tangled spaces and twisted debris that had once made up a building.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Johnny and Morton talking.

Photo: A chapel's red candles and cross.

Photo: A collapsing building from a distance.

Photo: Cap in an anguished look.

Photo: Stoker, Chet and Cap seeing catastrophe strike.

Photo: A building falling.

Photo: A fireman running away from a destroyed building.

Photo: Johnny, crawling through debris after a man.

Photo: Rescue worker's sifting through a debris pile.

Photo: Marco, looking terrified.

*  
From: "rwein5"  
Date: Tue Jul 25, 2006 4:35 pm Subject: Clarity

The walls were white, the ceiling tiles were white, and the sheets were white...and even the window blinds were, too. He slowly lifted his eyes to the brown door to his room, trying to decide why its color wasn't white like everything else.

The fogginess of waking up after his surgery had faded since he was in the recovery room. Earlier, when he had fallen back asleep, it was obvious that this white room would be his new home for a few days. He cringed as he felt a dull pain shoot across his mid-  
section. Clenching the crisp white sheets, he allowed for the pain spasm to ease before opening his eyes. And again, he stared at the door.

"Okay, Hank, they're gonna be here soon. What are ya gonna do about it?" he whispered to the door. His headache had been reduced to another dull throb and he tried to sort out the many images that circulated in his mind. He recalled most of the details from the harbor rescue including his decisions. And he knew that based on the aftermath of the fire operation, he was in for some trouble.

"Why did ya do it, Hank?" he asked himself, settling into the pillow. He continued to mumble knowing that only the door and the walls were his captive audience for the moment.

"Why? I am the Captain and my crew is my responsibility." he said quietly and with conviction.

"But, I also have the primary responsibility to the victims." he paused. "Children . . ." he whispered, remembering the cries.

Cap cleared his throat and closed his tired eyes again. This time,  
it was all black, no white walls staring at him during his monologue.

"The safety of everyone is my prerogative; my crew, the victims. My decision. My authority. . . " he continued with closed eyes. He willed away the taunting images of explosions and blood and in a deep voice full of emotion, "I'm not supposed to look out for myself here, only the people under my command, and for the people who need rescuing. My prerogative....R-right?" he sighed quietly.

The brown door opened and Hank opened his eyes.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Photos: None.

*  
Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2006 09:10:11 -0700 (PDT) From: "Cassidy Meyers" Subject: There is a Balm...

Unbidden, the heart rate on Hank's monitor sped up and set off his tach alarm as two shadowy figures entered the room, shattering the quiet with chiming attention tones.

It was Dixie and Dr. Brackett.

"Sorry, Hank." said Kel, moving to the bedside to feel the pulse in Cap's wrist as he eyed the EKG's screen in a check.  
"Didn't mean to startle you. Next time, we'll knock before coming in." he said, smiling. "You'll be happy to know that your abdominal repair job was a piece of cake. There'll be no complications. We found only a small bowel perforation and some kidney bruising.  
Nothing that a week of bedrest and another month of serious down time won't cure."

::Wanna bet?:: Hank thought mentally, ..miserable.

Cap's face must have betrayed his true state of emotion, for Dixie set a soothing hand on his shoulder while she checked the flow of I.V. fluids and antibiotics moving through the pump.

Nurse McCall was as equally relaxed as the doctor, and she made sure that fact was not lost on Cap. "When Kel says you're fine, he means it. " she blinked. "How are you feeling?"

"You mean, besides feeling like a pound of hamburger run through the meat grinder? I suppose I should be feeling lucky, all things considering."  
said Stanley. "But I can't say that I feel much of anything except for these staples right now." he lied.

"Easily fixed." said Dr. Brackett, turning up the auto dose of meperidine on the I.V. pump. "There..How about now? I've set this for 1mg every half hour. Should do the trick now that your general anesthetic's fully worn off."

Cap closed his eyes in relief and just nodded, swallowing hard around his n.g. tube that was drawing out red tinged fluid and the contents of his stomach which he knew was the only thing holding any nausea at bay. He didn't feel much like talking anymore, even to himself. All he wanted to do was give in to his medications. ::I want to deny reality for a while.:: he thought. ::No man should face all that horror happening out there when he's not able to stand on his own two feet. It's not fair. I wanna know what's going on. Every gory detail...Not knowing's cutting me to shreds and ribbons faster than Brackett and the other doctors can patch me up. Go on, coward.  
Ask the next question.. Come on, Hank. Say it.:: he sighed privately. Finally, his dry lips opened despite his fear. "Any news, guys?"

Kel's eyebrows went up as if he hadn't expected that question so soon.  
He finished getting a set of breath sounds over Cap's chest and he pulled the stethoscope out of his ears while he spoke. "You already know about Chet and Roy. They're stable, with only moderate injuries. As for the rest of your men, we h--"

There was a knock at the door which interrupted them. The raps were soft, and respectful.

Dixie turned to let that person in. "Ah,..that's the chaplain."

"Chaplain?!" Cap said, rising higher onto his pillow.

Dixie was no nonsense. "The FIRE chaplain. He called us and said he was coming of his own accord a few minutes ago. Now just settle down Mr. Stanley, or you'll aggravate your catheters. Both of them." she warned.

Cap grumbled into silence, only then noticing the false feeling of urgency sitting in his bladder that was being caused by an inflated foley balloon.  
"Fine. Ok.. Fine.." he gushed in irritation, fiddling with the gown underneath the sheets so it wouldn't tug on the tube that was draining him of liquid waste.

"You'll find there's a shunt coming out of your incision, too. That's only precautionary to speed up the healing process." said Brackett.

"Anything else medical I should know about?" Cap tried to grin for their benefit.

"That's it." said Dixie, marking down Cap's current I/O on his bedside chart as she strode for the door. "Can I let him in now?"

"I guess I really don't have a choice here now, do I?" Cap snapped as he scratched the n.g. tape stuck around his nose, gingerly. Then he amended immediately, regretting his reflex sharpness."Could- could you stay with us a moment? I'm sorry. I....I'm not myself."

"Sure.." smiled Dixie and she opened the door.

Fire Chaplain Father Mychal Judge was still in his sooty turnout. "Hank. Had to come." said a strong faced, small boned, but tall fireman. "I figured you wouldn't mind." he said, studying Stanley's reactions as they flitted across his face. "I had a few minutes. And I wanted to tell you things myself."

All the animation on Cap's face disappeared as the moment he had been dreading came. Shockingly, he found himself rendered mute.

Mychal's lined face actually smiled. "Hank, they're alive. We can hear Stoker and Lopez shouting from underneath a piling on the lower level. They say there are three others alive with them. One of them is a child."

Hank's eyes filled. "That's.. that's good news." he choked gratefully.

"You bet your ever blessed, bruised butt it is. The best kind of news that I always go out of my way to deliver to people." said the mild mannered chaplain.  
"That's definitely one of the reasons why I'm here at your bedside." said Father Mychal.

"And what's the second reason, Mychal?" said Hank, as he shook in relief, finally accepting a sip of water that Dixie held out for him to drink through a straw.

"I want to get you to stop snowballing the blame the surgical staff says you're heaping a mile high on yourself so you can get some decent rest."  
said Judge no nonsense. He immediately checked Cap's weak glare at Dixie.  
"Now, now, she's not responsible. It was no one you know who told. Just a... civilian nearby who mentioned you. She overheard some of your delirium while you were wheeling by her mother's room on your way to surgery.  
A real compassionate soul if I do say so myself to take time to think of a total stranger first in spite of her own stress and troubles." Judge rumbled happily.

A strange, vague feeling of forboding filled Cap as he settled down deeper into the pillows Brackett had arranged for him. "Father,..you stay safe out there, ok? Watch your back and keep your helmet on."

Mychal Judge's eyes sparkled with a powerful faith, and he chuckled.  
"There isn't a place I won't go if it's to save a soul, Hank. You know that. I'll go anywhere He tells me to without hesitation. It's a little like what you did today to try and save those children. In my reckoning, you did what was right by you, instead of what everyone else expected you to do, as right by the job. And that was a real tough egg to crack given the few seconds in which you had to make the call. I know, for I was watching the whole thing AND listening in over the radio. I'll vouch for you personally during the upcoming Skelly hearing. So don't worry about yourself anymore and I'll have none of those panged qualms for me. When it comes my time to go, I'm sure it'll be the right time in His eyes. I know it won't be today, Hank."

Cap nodded sleepily in affirmation, still oddly disturbed by the faint impression he was getting while looking at the holyman. When he closed his eyes, he could see firemen all around a mortally limp Judge, bearing him from an incomprehensibly large place of death and dust, in a battered chair. The mental image was fuzzy and faint, but it was nothing like a dream. ::More like a premonition?:: Cap shivered. ::I hope not.::

It was then Judge took on his official visit duties. He began to speak.  
"He summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two.... They anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. From Mark 6:7-13. Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord."  
Mychal said, signing a cross over Hank's bed. "And their prayer offered in faith will heal the sick, and the Lord will make them well; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. Amen. From James 5: 14-15."

Cap's sore, tense muscles began to ease as the intravenous pain killer reached the last places still throbbing in his body. Hank found that he had been soothed at last by Judge's gentle voice and words. "Well, I'd better be getting back to the boys still doubting themselves out there. I'll stop by and see you later, Hank." said the fire chaplain with a friendly wave.

Cap never remembered waving farewell in reply.

Photo: Dixie bending over a bed near an I.V. bottle.

Photo: Cap in a hospital bed with an N.G. tube in place.

Photo: NYFD Fire Chaplain Mychal F. Judge in turnout gear.

Photo: Vision of a Fire Chaplain, fatal casualty.

Photo: Building collapse near a cross.

Photo: Fire crews taking water from a Harbor.

*  
From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Thu Jul 27, 2006 3:33 pm Subject: Progress.. Gage wiped away the sweat and grit that was still stinging his eyes as he hailed Rampart once again. "Rampart, Squad 51.  
Our patient's now intubated with equal breath sounds on both sides."

##10-4, Squad 51. Keep ventilating him. Prepare to re-introduce another paralytic to keep him controllable. Switch from the succinylcholine to 0.1 mg/kg of Vercuronium I.V. push. Follow up with 3 mg/kg thiopental every five minutes if he wakes up at any time while still paralyzed so there won't be any chance of him panicking on you.## said Dr. Early.

"10-4, Rampart. 0.1 of Vercuronium and 3 of thiopental P.R.N. every five minutes." sighed Gage. Inwardly, he was happy that they were being allowed to treat all the witnessed nonbreathers located around the hot zone. Hazardous materials, beyond the burning oil spilled from the exploded tanker store drum, simply weren't being found.

::I'd give anything to be one of the paramedics assigned to Stoker and Marco's location.:: he thought as he loaded up his man onto a scoop stretcher for the transfer out to the safe green zone. Johnny took advantage of a fireman new to the paramedic program to make his move.

"Hey! Yeah, you! Take over bagging this man. Here are his care notes. He's Dr. Early's patient so talk with him while you take him in." Gage disassembled.

The younger man bought it, still used to following more experienced paramedics' orders. ::The kid must have had one hell of a preceptor to still be that malleable.:: he celebrated as he made good his escape from another ride-in. ::Not quite against the rules here. This guy's my same care level, a paramedic, so I'm not, technically, abandoning my patient.::

A piercing hand blown horse whistle broke through the sounds of the heavy machinery being used to clear away paths leading into the worst of the rubble pile.

Johnny looked up, donning another pair of clean, rubber gloves.  
"Brice? Where are you?!" Gage hollered into his HT as he watched the scenes of chaos as other paramedics treated the wounded on the pebble strewn parking lot's pavement. Rescue workers continued their battle to dig out those still trapped in the rubble.

##Ground level. North. To your eleven o'clock. I'm waving an orange safety vest.. See me now? Get over here with everything you've got. We've a woman Marco dug out and he's not that far below her position.  
She's going sour.##

A few minutes later, Johnny was at his side, wearing nitrile gloves.

Craig looked up at him and snatched away the trauma kit and I.V. box even before Johnny finished stumbling over debris to get to him. "Did that probie medic prove gullible enough for you? I kinda gave him hints to listen to those medics who've more department years under their belts than him."  
Brice said, matter of factly.

"I thought that was kinda easy. You devil, you.." Gage smiled, still dusty.

"Not devilish, Gage. I thought my behavior was colored more on the side of an angelic attempt to solve a problem." Brice corrected him.

"Same thing." Johnny said, unhelmeting and sticking his head and body into the hole the other firefighters had marked as being the one Marco and Stoker were trapped inside of. He quickly got his hands on the woman's head and neck for a vitals check.

"Not exactly." Craig preambled.

"Well... Ok, same result, then. Are you satisfied?" Johnny exasperated from his upside down position in the hole.

"No. But you are and that was my whole point in setting up that patient switch loophole scheme. How's she doing?" Brice asked.

Gage grunted. Only his ankles jutted up from the hole, being firmly held onto,  
by two burly L.A. city firemen. "Still checking.. Uh,...Gimme some clothes shears!" came his muffled voice.

The search dog who had discovered the two trapped firemen and their victims,  
was growing more and more excited as time went on. His handler did nothing to stop his antics. Everyone was more than glad to hear an overjoyed search dog instead of listening to a depressed one on a death point.

Brice made sure he scrubbed the dog's ears as he climbed by to get better access to the hole yawning between the two giant concrete slabs angled underneath him. "Good boy. Yes, you are.. Here, Gage. Catch..." he said, tossing the scissors down into the darkness. "Not you, boy." he warned the dog. "Go play with your reward ball. Go on, get.." he teased.

"Thanks for these." Gage said. "Give me a minute more and I'll have her info for ya."

Brice hung a connected biophone receiver over his shoulder while he prepared five Lactated Ringers I.V.s in rapid order for their future use for the worse of the trauma victims down below.

Gage's voice soon came back. "She's semi-conscious but she's extremely diaphoretic. I'm seeing signs of a basal skull fracture with possible nerve damage behind both eyes; her pupils are unequal despite good verbal responses. She's got a broken nose, possible face and jaw fractures, and Marco says she's got six missing teeth. She's also guarding her ....left upper quadrant. Feels like it's getting rigid."

"Ruptured spleen?" asked Craig loudly so Johnny could hear him.

"As far as I can tell. Yeah. Very likely. And two broken legs. Simple tibs on both of them, *grunt* ..uhh,.. right above the ankles."

"Here's the first of the O2. Two more tanks are on the way from the engine.." reported Craig.

Gage accepted the rope lowered oxygen supply. Immediately, Lopez took that task over and got some flowing amply for the critically wounded woman. "See, ma'am. Just like I told ya. The paramedics are here." said Lopez, biting his lip as he slid his injured leg to one side away from Gage's view.

"Don't try to hide that leg on me, Marco. Don't you know I can't be fooled medically?  
Truth now, did you rip open an artery on what I'm seeing impaled in your calf? If so,  
you're gonna be the second one outta here."

"I don't think I did. Stoker and I bound it up pretty well when we first started crawling.  
It's just plenty sore now."

"Sore as in how?"

"It feels like a dull, stabbing throb."

"That kind of pain's good when it comes to feeling things in the legs." Gage told him."Can you wriggle that foot?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now hold that whole leg still until we get to you." Gage told Marco.

Lopez started sobbing. "Johnny...how's Roy, Chet, and Cap? We...Stoker and I...saw them all disappear in a cloud of debris."

"They're all fine. They're probably out of surgery already and resting comfortably. Now stay quiet. I'm tryin' to work here."

The woman was soon collared and carefully placed in a stokes that had been sent down from above. She began talking nervously, entering a lucid period.

"Ma'am, can you talk to me?" Gage asked her.

She did, but the woman couldn't focus her eyes on his face.  
"I could see clear blue sky pockets throughout all the floors in the building after it happened. I realized then, what I was looking at. The six floors above me had blown up into the air and fell back down again. I...don't know how I came to find myself lying on a ledge above a chasm of rubble. I think the other floors fell on all the staff members who were in the meeting room with me. Are my friends ok?" asked Florence Rogers. "Have you seen them?"

Johnny raised his eyebrows at Marco but Lopez immediately shook his head.

Johnny didn't miss the hint and he deflected her attention. "Miss Rogers, take a deep breath in, I'm gonna listen to your lungs to see how they're doing. Are you having difficulty breathing at all?" he said, opening her shirt a bit at the torn neck even as he pulled the material from around her pant's waistline so he could get his stethoscope's drum underneath and over skin in all the right places.

"Just...a little. More because it's so stuffy....in here." she replied.

"Breathe in three times. Slow and deep."

She did so, losing concentration suddenly on the third breath when she forgot what she was just doing.

"Ok..Marco, bump up her oxygen a little. Bring it to fifteen liters." Johnny requested, setting a sealed ambu bag into the stokes with the woman in case it was needed later. "I'm strapping her in. Craig, her lungs are clear so far.  
I.D.'s in her left front pocket!" he shouted up through the hole.

"Ok.." came Brice's disembodied voice above them.

"Got it." said Marco. "It's set to fifteen. High flow." Lopez replied.

"All right, now, Florence, here we go. It's gonna hurt, but I promise, my partner, Craig, will go slow. Holler if something gets real bad and we'll halt immediately." Johnny told his first victim.

Rogers closed her swollen eyes tightly in a prayer. "Just do it." she gasped. "I can't stand being down here any-- any more." she gurgled.  
"I....wanna live to see....another day. I got a little girl at home."

The shattered woman began to hoist upwards, inch by careful inch.

"Mike, how're your other victims?" Johnny shouted once she was underway so Stoker could hear him where he was located out of sight around a tangle of leaking water pipes.

"The baby's fine. Not a scratch. The two men with me have minor injuries. One has a broken arm, and only cuts and abrasions on both."

"How about yourselves, guys..." Gage said as he directed the woman's stokes up through the hole using the guide ropes. "Don't leave anything out."

"We were both unconscious for a bit. Me? Deeper than him." Marco said. "You already know about ...the leg. I've got a slight headache. I can't seem to make...sense of certain things."

"You mean, as in recent memory?"

"Yeah. Uh,...where exactly are we? On Supolveda?"

"No. We're at the harbor. Keep your head up. This O2's for you." said Johnny, cracking open a second tank. "I'll take your blood pressure in a second. You're getting a little hypovolemic because of some blood loss from your leg. I know you're not as seriously head knocked as you think you are." Johnny said. "Put this mask on and lay quiet. I'm gonna go see how Mike's baby's doing. I'll be right back." Gage said as he rechecked the dressings over Marco's leg. As he thought, hemorrhaging had begun again in that wound in earnest. He quelled it with a blood stopper dressing without disturbing the shard and tied it off.

"Ouch.. Easy with that!" sighed Marco, placing his dusty head on a concrete lump until he was comfortable. The hissing sound of the oxygen over his nose and mouth only made him sleepier. ::Maybe I'm just relieved the other guys are ok.  
I hope I'm not really shocky at all.:: he wished. Then his awareness faded, and it scared him to no end when he realized that he couldn't fight it off. He blacked out.

"Marco?" Johnny asked.

Lopez didn't reply.

Johnny scrambled near once more and angled Marco's head back along a rubbled boulder after he was sure the firemen was still breathing well enough to manage by himself. "Brice, throw down a Ringer's! Marco's just gone out on me due to a partial impalement through his lower right leg."

"Two bags coming right up." Craig anticipated.

Inwardly, Johnny both grinned and frowned at Brice's d*mn*ble but always incredible paramedic's foresight. ::And I'll probably need 2000 cc's, too,  
to revive him.::

After fluid stabilizing Marco, Gage slowly worked to get through the small, cramped space to gather the rest of his medical surveys on the others.

-  
One of the men with Stoker, sighed. "You mean, that wasn't an earthquake?  
I never heard anything quite that loud before. What was it?"

Mike answered him, blinking grit out of his eyes. He had long ago taken his helmet off to use it like an umbrella over the whimpering baby cradled in his arms. "That roar was the whole building crumbling down after the tank reservoir on the dock exploded."

"That d*mn*d Oil Company. I told them that tank was leaking. It's been stinking every morning when the breeze blows inland from the sea. Everybody in the office's been smelling it for two weeks straight."

"Wait a minute. It was doing what?!" Gage asked him as he crawled a little closer to all four of them. "Why didn't you call the gas utilities?"

"We did. Numerous times. Not our fault that nobody did anything about it. If anything, the fault's entirely on your heads now. Don't you fire department types regularly inspect oil wells for problems every month? Too bad so many people had to die today before--" the man broke off, completely shaken.

Gage filed away that observation as food for thought along with the man's personal information from his Driver's License.

Johnny only delayed the baby's rescue by a minute or so. Long enough for him and Stoker to carefully place her onto a papoose board for the trip up and out of the debris field. "Infant's stable!" he shouted at Craig.  
"Stoker, are you uninjured enough to help me with Marco? He's next. Pop in his OPA for me, would you? I thought he'd've reawakened by now." he said, turning up Lopez's second drip chamber to wide open as he immobilized the first injured man's lower arm with his other hand.

Johnny watched Lopez accept the airway without flinching. But Gage noted that Marco's face was still warm and only a tiny bit pale. Gage did a deep pain check and was rewarded with a grimace as Stoker bent close to tend him.  
Mike sighed and he turned his head when Gage's radio began chattering at him.  
"It's in, Johnny. The crew's sending the stokes down again in half a minute. They have to check on a potential recollapse warning siren that's just gone off."

"Brice!" Gage shouted.

##Hang on down there. We're checking with the IC.## came Brice's calm voice over the HT Johnny had out on a rock. Seconds later, Craig was back on the frequency. ##False alarm. It was just dust settling. What'll come down, already has, according to all the engineers we've got out here. You're free to resume..## he reported to Johnny.

"We're on our way! Ok, Stoker, while we wait for the basket stretcher, help me put a pair of splints on this arm and Marco's leg. And before you ask, Roy, Chet and Cap are doing just great. All three are at Rampart. And that's where we're going, too. I made sure of those arrangements way ahead of time." Johnny told the dirty, worried engineer.

Photo: Gage, digging under a house near a victim.

Photo: Brice close, looking up near a debris field.

Photo: Firemen carting away a double I.V. cath'd woman.

Photo: A handler, hugging his search dog.

Photo: Paramedics tending a roof top victim.

Photo: A bloodied hysterical man being stair chair'd to safety.

Photo: Johnny Gage, looking tense, outside in a closeup shot.

From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Sun Jul 30, 2006 4:18 pm Subject: Blood is Thicker Than...

Mike Stoker finally allowed himself to relax way inside, where all of his tension had wound the tightest.  
::It'll be a long healing period for all of us physically.:: he thought to himself as he watched Marco be loaded onto a gurney in a prep to be moved to a waiting helicopter. He himself, had declined the offer to fly in a bird, using his right of choice to take an ambulance into the hospital. "See all the victims here? Now even though I'm not a paramedic, I know there's someone who needs it more than I do." he told Johnny from his gurney as he was blanketed and triaged.

Gage grinned. "That's the sound of a true fire station engineer's heart talking, Brice. Ain't it a wonderful thing?" he chuckled.

Craig nodded in agreement, pushing his debris dusty glasses up a little further up his nose. "Marco's coming to. Those two I.V.'s are finally working." he said where he crouched over the bundled firefighter. Brice took the short airway out of Marco's mouth just as the waking fireman started protesting it physically.

"About time things worked. Knowing Marco, he just wanted to take his usual afternoon nap time anyway despite being buried under ten storeys of collapsed building." Johnny looked around them quickly. "Where's the woman?" he asked.

"She was flown out three ago. See it there?" Brice said, tossing a careless bloodied glove westwards into the sun.

Gage caught the sight of the tail end of the chopper as it crested the last hill as it disappeared over the horizon. When he concentrated, he could just make out the air distorted thwap of retreating rotors over the noisy, chaotic sound of heavy machinery still digging in search.  
"Got ya. So, how many do they think are still out there?" he asked about trapped victims.

Brice's face fell. "Not many. Dogs have reacted to only two more places past your crew's hole on the whole site. I'm afraid the rest are....probably dead." he said quietly. But he immediately bolstered up his confidence again. "That child one of the city guys pulled out of the debris field's still alive. He was breathing on his own when he left. Got a chance to see him when the firefighter carrying him fast walked on by for the green zone."

"That's good to hear." said Gage. "That's.. that's really great. Come on,  
let's get these two into a pair of warm beds at Rampart. Dixie'll probably wanna baby them to death like she did Roy, Cap and Chet when they got there."

"...sounds nice.." Lopez whispered in a phlegmy wheeze. "Me first.." he grunted in pain.

"Shush and let your epinephrine start working in peace without your jawing about things aggravating it." Gage chided him no nonsense.

Marco ignored Johnny, his sense of self righteousness becoming fully intact as rapidly as his returning consciousness did. "I don't remember all the details. Was I happy about being found?" he coughed, pulling off his oxygen mask. "What happened to me again after you got to us?"

"Same thing that always happens when you open a vein or two and let it go too long. Your body decided to go on strike for a little bit. You'll be fine now." Brice told him, taking another blood pressure. "Your EKG's showing that you're back to near normal."

"Hate to bust your bubble. But I don't feel anywhere near normal..."

"That's just your bruises talking. Trust Craig Brice on that one, Lopez.  
He's a brilliant paramedic." Johnny laughed.

"Says who?" said Bellingham, walking up to the others to collect Marco's red tagged evac orders. "I don't see no Floyd Nightgale here. Do you?  
I'd know it if I ever found myself working with a Mr. Perfect Partner type."

"You gotta stand back a little to see the halo. You must be getting blinded for being so close." Gage told him.

The others smiled, including Brice, who did his with a strong dose of simple modesty.

Bob waved over two firemen to take Lopez away to the evac takeoff pad. "Well, the fire's out, at least around here. It'll be the rest of the day yet before those tankers are doused properly. They're still having trouble with tanker number twelve. Keeps re-igniting itself due to internal heat."

"No longer our problem..And never will be again." Johnny said empathetically as he gathered up the last of all their medical gear. "Come on, let's get out of here. I'm getting really tired of the scenery around these parts. It's becoming too depressing for me. Fast." he said, thinking about repercussions that would soon come Cap's way.

No one denied him that observation.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hank Stanley pulled up his car across the street from Station 51. He couldn't find it within himself to park boldly in the backyard's lot like he would have done if circumstances weren't so disturbingly different.

It was mid-evening, and the station was deserted. ::They've rearranged the FD response grid in our service area to work around our absent shift. They don't have enough people to fill all our shoes while we're still gone like this on medical leave.:: Stanley empathized.

He hadn't wanted to come. Not really. Not when every familiar piece of equipment, smell, and object in the firehouse would remind him of working.  
::And that's a job that might no longer be mine come the end of the week:  
Hank thought miserably. ::I'm just torturing myself. Maybe I should just turn around and go home.::

But Stanley turned his key in the lock anyway and let himself in.

It was already beginning to smell unused inside the office. He could barely make out the scent of firesmoke left over from B and C's shifts from when they punched out and left the station at the crack of dawn.

The sun was just setting... It was usually Cap's favorite part of the day.  
For it made the rec room and his office glow with warm, profuse daylight that always offered to soothe any pair of tired eyes, worn from a fire call or bad child medical. Sighing, Hank lowered himself down into his chair, kicked off his sneakers and folded his tired feet on top of the neatly plastic tarp covered desk.

::It's been two weeks. And I still don't know what to do. I haven't even gotten the letter talking about the disciplinary action that they're going to pitch against me yet. I know that needs to be disclosed first to me and my union rep before any official hearing's scheduled.:: Cap thought, biting his lip. He was not relaxed, and it caused his healing, still itching staples to ache over his tense stomach muscles. ::But I still hate the whole idea of this Skelly hearing thing. I mean, I haven't so much as gotten a single parking ticket since I first became certified with the fire department eighteen years ago. Leaving me in a lurch like this isn't fair at all. I wanna know a decision now. Before it drives me completely nuts!:: Hank fidgetted.

His restlessness drove him to his feet. He strode for the door and ran right into a cloud of freshly percolating coffee steam, drifting in from the kitchen. He dashed for the rec room carelessly, partially fearing who and what he'd find once he got there.

All five of his firefighters were standing around the kitchen table, not yet seated in their chairs, as they passed around a coffee pot.

It seemed that they had been waiting for him.

They all set down their coffee cups when he entered and slowly, as one, they all saluted him formally, in a respectful line as if they were wearing dress hats in full uniform during a surprise inspection instead of loose fitting t-shirts and blue jeans fresh off the streets.

It all but broke Cap's heart when he realized that he could still spot the signs of injury in his men: Roy's Frankenstein's monster like stitches still in a ring around his neck from his emergency cervical dissection, Chet's shoulder sling, the crutches Marco was leaning on so he could stand on his sore leg... But most of all, it was Stoker's still blood darkened black eye that cut through him the most, for it marred the mild engineer's usually shy handsome smile. He fought tears when he saw their unswerving unspoken tribute and noted that they didn't break formation one inch nor their right handed salutes one millimeter, until he returned it quickly.

That released everybody out of a suffocating silence of uncertainty. Gage beat out all the others to be the first one to pull out a chair for their still stiff, and sore, captain.

Johnny said just three words as they waited for any kind of verbal reaction from him with frozen nervousness. "...welcome back, Cap.." he said with a small tentative, ambivalent smile.

That released a Hoover Dam of emotions in Hank. "Oh, my word. I thought you all would absolutely begin to hate me after what I did to you." he gasped, eyes powder dry with shock and relief as the breath slowly returned to his body.

The gang bubbled forward with a gush of reassurances and shoulder pats and hand shakes.

"No way, Cap." shouted Chet.  
"Amigos siempre.." said Lopez.  
"Whatever gave you that idea?" asked Roy.

"What's to hate? You're a likeable kind of guy. Even more so than me, Cap." Stoker insisted.  
"And that's the truth.." Gage punctuated, setting an amply filled cup of coffee down before Hank, complete with the bowl of sugar and the carton of vanilla cream that they all knew he liked. "So there.. I'm afraid, you're still stuck with us.." he chuckled with a lopsided grin, gesturing in exasperated relief. "Drink up. There's plenty where that came from. We couldn't just keep hanging around home either..heh."

"What are y-- what are you all doing here?" Cap asked, still not drinking. But he held onto the warm cup as if his comfort depended on it like a lifeline.

"This came today. We sorta kinda saw the chief come out to deliver it."  
said Chet uncomfortably, pulling out and sliding over an unopened Headquarters stamped envelope from a rear jeans pocket. "We all hid so he wouldn't see us. We...." he broke off but then finished his thought. "...didn't want ya to get into any more trouble just because we let ourselves into a station that's officially stood down for a shift."

"Can't get into any more trouble than I already am." admitted Cap.  
"Give it here. I.....think I already have a pretty good idea what this is all about."  
he said reluctantly. Hank sat down into his chair and he was amazed that he couldn't seem to find the ability to make his fingers move long enough to open it.

"Come on, Cap. Go on ahead. We're all with ya." said Kelly, firmly.

"Yeah,.." echoed Marco. "We're all in this together. So out with it.."

"And how. Go on,...Rip away..." said Stoker.

Trembling, Cap opened the letter...

_________________________________________________

Photo: The gang at the kitchen table, in front of coffee.

Photo: Gage and Chet overlooking a letter with trepidation.

Photo: Cap looking uncomfortably nervous in a close up.

************************************************** From: Patti or Jeff or Cassidy Date: Mon Jul 31, 2006 6:55 pm Subject: The Coup De Grace..

Cap didn't look up as he forced his eyes to move over the crisp, neatly creased and letterheaded page.

"This letter is official notification in a matter of discipline, SPB Case number 312-6 being filed against Henry A. Stanley, Rank of Fire Department Captain, NO. 97-06, City of Carson, LACoFD Station 51. You are summarily summoned to appear before an official arbitrator and the LACoFD Operations Commander of the state of California on Monday,...August 12th,..0830 hundred hours..."

Cap swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even as he read on.

"You have been found to have committed a violation of Article 34 of the Los Angeles County Fire Procedures Manual, sections 171.105 and 171.106. It has been ruled that you, the grievant, issued an Improper Fire Command Direction in a clearcut Protocol Code Violation, which resulted in the unnecessary direct endangerment of four of five firefighter personnel who were reporting to duty under your command on Wednesday, August 18th, 1976. The time in which the infraction occurred was at 10:02 hours while your station was on scene at an oceanic pier fire incident located at 1700 Industrial Boulevard.  
Evidence of your violation has been inarguably demonstrated on officially recorded LACoFD fire radio transmissions that were also overheard by the Battalion Incident Commander on co-current active duty on the same date.

"A severe reprimand action has been authorized to be rendered against you consisting of...." Cap broke off, his eyes filling. "Oh, is this really happening to me?" he whispered through dry lips as sudden hot tears blinded him. Hank crumpled up the letter weakily in two limp hands and sat back down, hard.

The gang was stunned into silence. Roy's mouth opened in grave concern.  
"Hank, are you ok? It- whatever it is, it can't be that bad. I mean, we all went into Headquarters and filed official statements saying that we all agreed with your decision telling us to go in after those kids. Those must have had a positive impact,.. didn't they?" he asked timidly, scared.

Cap didn't look at him.

Gage immediately got mad. "Cap, now what did they decide against you?"

"You can tell us, man. Whatever they wanna do to you, we can fight it." said Chet firmly. "I'm sure our union reps can help us out that way. We've already found a steward to oversee you from the Carson City Area Firefighters Local 522 I.A.F.F., AFL-CIO."

Hank finally spoke. "Oh, and who's the best one for that? Can't be any of you guys. You all were the victims of my supposed wrongful action."

"He's the best, Cap. Trust us on this one." said Marco.

"Yeah, we brought him here today just to see you." said Stoker.

"You what?!" bellowed Cap, quickly wiping his eyes on a paper napkin that someone had pushed in front of him. "Don't you think that's jumping the gun just a little bit? This arbitrary hearing's only to present counter evidence to lessen any punishment, if possible. It's not a trial that takes material witnesses like some criminal court case."

"No, but the Arbitrator may listen to character ones." said Craig Brice as he walked through the vehicle bay doors. "Captain Stanley.." he greeted formally with a small bob of his head. "If you'll permit me, I'd like to attend your Skelly hearing in that function. I am, after all, a neutral party. I am not one of your direct crew members."

Cap hesitated.

"Come on, Cap. He's also got total recall of the entire Procedures Manual and Union rules. He's the perfect choice to mediate for you." Gage insisted.

Hank looked up tentatively, vulnerable. "W-what exactly does a steward do at a Skelly hearing? I- I wouldn't know since I've never had one myself, nor have any of my men under any of my commands throughout my entire career.." he said, still in an odd sort of shock.

Brice smiled, and calmly soothed everyone with his quiet, methodic voice.  
"First of all, I need to know what they wish to do as your disciplinary action."

Cap looked up with numb eyes. "They want to fire me."

The room erupted in complete and utter denial. The gang exploded into noisy empathetic complaints, pleading sympathy or anger on Cap's behalf,  
until Brice held up his hands for silence.

"Captain Stanley, that charge is most grievous, but we do have many recourses we can follow to challenge the action the Board wants to take against you. In Skelly, the California Supreme Court set forth certain notice requirements that a public employer must fulfill to satisfy an employee's pre-removal procedural due process rights. At a minimum, these pre-removal safeguards must include notice of the proposed action, the reasons therefore, which is contained in that letter you're holding." he gestured. "In addition, a copy of the charges and materials upon which the action is based must be provided to you. You also have the right to respond, either orally or in writing, to the authority initially imposing this discipline."

"I do?" Cap asked quietly, still getting a hold of himself. He was gripping the edge of the table so tightly, that it was creaking.

Brice nodded. "Pursuant to Skelly, the Board enacted Rule 52.3, which provides in pertinent part: (a) Prior to any adverse action. the appointing power shall give the employee written notice of the proposed action. This notice shall be given to the employee at least five working days prior to the effective date of the proposed action. The notice shall include: (1) the reasons for such action, (2) a copy of the charges for adverse action,  
(3) a copy of all materials upon which the action is based, (4) notice of the employee's right to be represented in proceedings under this section, and (5) notice of the employee's right to respond...

Brice took in a deep breath. "That being, so far in your case, it looks like Headquarters is in protocol violation itself here." he explained suddenly.

"They are?" asked Gage incredulously.

"How so? That letter sounds like it's in very tight order.." said Marco.

Again the room filled with noise as everyone fought to be heard over each other, expressing their opinions and very great concern.

Brice put a finger to his lips to quiet them, and still smiling, he reclined his head. "There's no tape." he said simply, holding up the torn open empty envelope. To emphasis his point, he turned it upside down and shook it as if to look for the incriminating reel that wasn't there to fall out of it.

Gage began to laugh, darkly amused.

And slowly, Cap began to grin, right along with him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fifteen minutes later, the firemen had laid out their plan of attack.

Craig Brice filled them in as to the nitty gritty details. "The purpose of the Skelly hearing is to determine only if there are 'reasonable grounds to believe that the charges against the appellant are true and support the proposed action.' In contrast, an appellant's right to discovery is broader. It includes 'the right to inspect any documents in the possession of, or under the control of, the appointing power which are relevant to the adverse action'  
Now,..." he sighed. "Many FD bureaucratic managers and supervisors do not understand Skelly rights, and they therefore often violate the rules. This can provide grounds for winning a grievance, because further arbitrators take Skelly rights VERY seriously.

"Now we already know, that THEY know, that management must have sufficient evidence by the time of the Skelly hearing to support the proposed discipline.  
But they may NOT know that employees, or their representatives, are entitled to the same access to the relevant documents as outlined by Code SPP 270.11 (b)  
in the fire department manual. Although they may try to doctor up a case against the employee after the Skelly hearing, this would still be considered a violation of the employee's Skelly rights. It looks like the employee, Captain Stanley, has not been given a lawful chance to review the quote/unquote d*mn*ng evidence material. And probably won't be, before the disciplinary hearing's final action's administered."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute.." said Gage. "You mean, since Cap hasn't heard the radio tape yet, that all we have to do is wait these five days out and everything'll turn out just fine?" he asked incredulously.

"Essentially,... yes. On Monday, file a grievance under the SPP or A&PS sections I've pointed out, and then at the second grievance meeting, just say that the employee should have the termination letter removed from his file because there was no properly supplied Skelly meeting documentary material supplied the grievant at the onset. Of course, you should make all other relevant arguments as well..." Brice concluded, adjusting his glasses. "Such as, 'We're not pressing charges.'.. etc. etc.." he smiled blandly.

Chet got into that big time.. "Yeah, and how about..Go take a hike, too!"

"Brice, you're a genius!" exclaimed Cap, grabbing Craig's hand and pumping it up and down vigorously.

"I guess." said Craig modestly. "Usually, everybody tells me that I'm a braggart."

"No, it's true..You are a RAVING genius!" Hank said. "Ok, uh.... so tell me, if- if- if I still keep you as my steward, what is your function, and wh- what's mine?" he asked, nervously sipping from his steaming coffee cup.

The mug was shaking so bad, that Marco and the others had to help him drink the mouthful he wanted, until Cap waved them away in irritation.

"This is what I, while working as a steward, usually do..." shared Brice. "One of the jobs a steward has, is to keep management from intimidating employees."

"They actually do that?!" Hank asked in horror.

Brice sadly nodded his head yes. "This is especially important in the case of closed-door meetings where supervisors try to force employes to admit that they did something wrong to prove a point and to prove that their punishment decision was the right one."

"Ok.. ok.." said Cap eagerly.

Brice went on. "Your right to have a union rep present in such meetings was established by the Supreme Court in the Weingarten case. The Court ruled that a worker is entitled to have a union rep present when a supervisor asks for information which could be used as a basis for discipline. This is another thing that the Board who sent you this letter, did not do."

The gang chuckled again, finally more sure in their relieved feelings about the whole situation.

Craig held up a finger in warning. "But management has no obligation to tell workers their rights, so employees may not know to ask for union representation before or during the interview. A steward can put such a request in writing, and direct the employee to keep a copy to back up any counter-evidence."

Hank nodded, paying close attention, his eyes finally dry.

"Now my role as a steward to you..." he went on. "Watch what you say at the meeting because it really may be, and very often is, used against you if any shred of defensiveness materializes. Keep your answers to their questions short and avoid volunteering any information. If you don't know an answer, say so and don't speculate. Most importantly, stay calm and reasonable. You aren't fired yet." Brice snorted, getting into his counseling with a little animation.

The others murmured encouragements.

Brice looked Cap in the eye. "Be reassuring. The union is there to help. Also,  
call management today and casually asked what the meeting is about. Don't assume you know what their agenda is despite this letter. Take good notes of what is said and by whom. Good notes of management's early positions can save your case neatly, especially with a mistake happening in your favor THIS big."  
he said, lofting Cap's wrinkled letter. "It'll be my job to not let the supervisors harass, abuse, or intimidate you. I'll do this by saying things like. "Don't interrupt, he's trying to answer your question," or, "I'm afraid we can't continue with the meeting if you're going to shout." or, "Let's take a break and re-convene when you've decided what it is that you need to know," etc. As your steward, I'll have a lot of control over the atmosphere of this meeting. Don't worry. If we're surprised by another turn in bad news or if you feel like you're beginning to become unglued, just nod, and I'll say, "We're going to step out and caucus for about ten minutes. We'll be right back." This'll give us a chance to regroup and to discuss a new tactic to win the hearing, ok?"

"Thanks Brice. I owe you one." said Stanley, truly grateful.

"No you don't. What you did to try and save those kids was the right thing to do. And I always defend anyone who's willing to do that any day of the week.  
Now,..we'll allow enough time so that we can meet privately first beforehand and still be punctual. Don't be surprised if management is late or keeps you waiting. They often do this deliberately to remind you who's in charge. Ignore it. It's an old trick." Craig told him.

"Of all the low down, underhanded..." Hank growled to himself.

"Patience, Cap." Roy reminded him. "We've always known that all the chiefs have many tricks up their sleeves. I don't have to remind you of the ones Chief McConnike pulls on you all the time for burning his hat once as a probie."

"No, you don't." Hank said, relaxing.

Brice continued. "Cap, introduce yourself, too, and shake hands with everybody in the room. You need to know their names for your notes, and it establishes you as their equal. Be polite, at least initially. If the situation warrants, you can express anger or disgust, but always remain professional. I like to be friendly with the enemy, so I'm warning you in advance so you won't think that I'm changing sides. It'll be a sweeter victory when we deliver the coup de grace if they've been buttered up a little.." he grinned broadly, rubbing his hands.  
"Now as for the rest of you guys... Show up, dressed impeccably. And leave all your bandages and crutches at home. "

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Monday, and Mike Stoker was the first of the injured firemen to be called by Brice to the stand to serve as an optional character witness at Hank's Skelly hearing.

Stoker's black eye was well concealed under solid flesh toned stage makeup to the point of invisibility, a skill Dixie had plied generously.

Smiling, the shy engineer began to speak.."Fire comradeship runs very, very deep in our station. My ...faith in Hank Stanley has never been shaken, not even once, for as long as I've known him as my captain..."

FIN

Episode Thirty Five, Season Five Captain's Prerogative Emergency Theater Live

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Brice shaking Cap's hand.

Photo: Very thick procedure manuals on a desk.

Photo: Cap, Chet, Roy and Gage in close conference over coffee.

Photo: Gage in a suit, looking calm and relaxed, listening.

Photo: A representative confronting Cap, seated in a chair.

***This current episode has just completed.  
***Keep watching here daily for new episode ***scene installments.

*  
Captain's Perogative

:) This episode is dedicated to those rescue workers, (  
survivors, and victims of the Oklahoma City Bombing tragedy of 1995 and to NYFD Fire Department Chaplain Father Mychal Judge, who died at the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001 while delivering last rites to a downed firefighter when tower debris struck and killed him while he :( prayed for the dying who lay surrounding him. :(

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